


Something Special

by Bhelryss



Series: fe8week2017 [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: F/F, magvelweek: day 1, prompt: home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 10:32:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12455736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bhelryss/pseuds/Bhelryss
Summary: FE8 Week Day 1: Home/AdventureHome: Fruit, flour, a warm day and a warmer oven. Dessert, after their first dinner together in their home, never tasted better.





	Something Special

“Wow,” Amelia said, balancing in the doorway as she pulled off dusty boots, looking into the dark interior. “It’s still just as pretty as when we toured it the first time, don’t you think?” Free of her shoes, Amelia slid across the wood floors and turned with a wave of her arms to save her balance. “What do you think, Neimi?”

“I think we should open the windows,” Neimi said, taking off her own well-traveled shoes without needing to lean against the wall. Her eyes watered at the dust in the air, and she moved purposefully to the sides of the entryway, opening up curtains and the windows and letting golden light illuminate the rooms even as a gentle breeze pushed dust motes in and out of the afternoon sun. “That’s better.” Neimi declared, voice soft and reaching out a hand for Amelia’s.

Companionably, they moved through the house together, opening windows and basking in the lazy afternoon’s warmth. The rooms were almost entirely empty, save for a few sheet-covered furniture accents. A table here, a dresser there. A set of cutlery that they’d had gifted to them when the news of their new-bought house had gone around their friends from the war, that they had to put into place.

“What are you thinking for dinner?” Amelia asked, using her knight’s muscles to bring in several bags of groceries at once. It was an impressive display, and Neimi watched her for a moment, looking up from where she was placing pots and pans into cabinets with a practiced ease of organization. “I was thinking it should be something special, because it’s our first night together in our house.”

Leaning her elbows on the countertop, Neimi smiled. “What were you thinking?” Because it was a little late to begin preparing something  _ really _ special for dinner. Most of the meals she knew, the ones that were for special occasions, were wedding dishes, which meant they took most of a day, or most of a night to prepare, even if the cooking time itself wasn’t too bad. Something special for  _ dessert _ , though…might be a different story.

Shrugging with one shoulder, Amelia placed a heap of empty jars on a part of the counter space, a box of tubers in an out of the way corner. “I didn’t have anything specific in mind? But, well, I think I saw a bush of michew buries at the edge of the woods out back?” A pause, and Neimi watched her rearranging the jars as she battled whatever was making her ears redden.

Neimi waited her out, as only an archer can. In with the breath, back with the hand and pulling the drawstring with it, sight the target…

“Well I was thinking, dessert for dinner? That’s special enough, don’t you think?”

Exhale, and release.

“That sounds wonderful,” Neimi exclaimed, thinking back to their childish agreement, back during the war. A handshake and a promise to go berry hunting together...They’d been so young then, their friendship so shaky and new. To revisit that beginning now, at the beginning of the next part of their life together...it felt right. “Let’s go, before we lose the light.”

Their hands found each other without too much delay, and they left the pans and jars and root vegetables out on the counters and floors, and said to themselves they would only be a moment, that putting things away could wait just a little. With a bucket in each free hand, they searched for the michew bush. (And found it.)

A decent amount of berries were won without too much effort, but a significant number were consumed on site. Neimi’s lips were tinged michew-berry red, a perfect match to the red of Amelia’s shirt (and tongue). They swung their joined arms as they walked home, pails not terribly full, but full enough. There would be pie for dinner, to chase their berry appetizer. And pie for dessert, and perhaps, if they were feeling naughty, pie for breakfast.

Thankfully, the sun was still up when they returned. The light was still golden, the day was still warm, and the kitchen warmed further, as Neimi set the the fire for the stove and left it alone to burn to the desired point. Amelia waded back into the kitchen with an arm around a sack of flour as though it were a baby, a bag of sugar settled on her other hip in a similar fashion. 

War was waged upon the kitchen as Neimi tried to work out a tart crust, and Amelia washed the berries. (They lost a handful before Neimi noticed, and threw a puff of flour at Amelia’s sleeve for discouragement.) Amelia exploded a flour clod by crushing it too hard, and the puff of powder that coated everything in a film of white irritated Neimi’s eyes to the point that her eyes watered dangerously.

Amelia sneezed so hard that she crushed the eggs, and had to spend a significant amount of time picking shell out out of the bowl. But they got it done, the mess disregarded, and after it cooked, they had pie for dinner.

It’s delicious, as a joint effort baking can only be, and Neimi sacrificed her dominant hand so she can hold Amelia’s as they ate. 

Pausing, fork dangling precariously in her hand, Amelia leaned forward to bump a kiss across Neimi’s cheek. “So, what do you think?” She asked, voice low and sweet.

“I love our home,” Neimi replied, squeezing Amelia’s hand gently. “I think we’ll be very happy here.” 


End file.
